


Sometimes

by edibleflowers



Category: Popslash
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-18
Updated: 2012-09-18
Packaged: 2017-11-14 13:00:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/515491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edibleflowers/pseuds/edibleflowers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It didn't happen all the time, just every so often.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sometimes

**Author's Note:**

> A birthday fic, via challenge, for Missi. Have a great birthday, girl!

It didn't happen all the time, just every so often. Lance could always tell when it would happen. Chris would be abnormally quiet during the day, and while he had his quiet days -- they were rarer than the others', but he had them -- for it to be one of those times, he would practically disappear.

It didn't matter where they were, or what they had planned for the day. Chris would just be gone. It was easier on this tour because he had the motorcycle with him. Justin bitched and moaned because he wanted to go too, but Joey would take him aside and calm him down.

This time, Chris showed up just before the show. They were in New Mexico somewhere, and Lance was pretty sure that Chris had no clue how to get around in wherever the hell they were, but he returned nonetheless an hour before their set started. Randy yelled at him, and he just stood there, nodded, like they'd never gone through all this before, and then Chris made his way into the toy room and found Lance.

Lance was sitting on the couch, his laptop propped up on his crossed legs. When Chris dropped something into his lap, he scowled and looked up. "Peanut M&Ms aren't going to win you back into my favor," he muttered.

"You love me," Chris said.

"I could get peanut M&Ms anywhere, you know."

"These are special peanut M&Ms. I bought them myself, with my own two hands. Do you want to hear about it?"

"No."

Chris climbed over the couch and put his legs across Lance's lap. Lance rolled his eyes and picked up the laptop, setting it down again on Chris's shins. "So I got lost, and I had to stop and get this highway map, and there was this girl, really cute, didn't recognize me, and--"

Lance tuned Chris out after a while, letting him babble. Chris opened the bag of M&Ms and put a green one to Lance's mouth. Lance opened his lips and allowed Chris to feed him. It wasn't that he particularly liked peanut M&Ms so much -- he preferred the plain ones, when he was in the mood for chocolate -- but Chris had a thing for them, and he liked to indulge Chris.

"I got her to sign my cast," Chris said, holding up the dark blue cast on his left arm. In silver, the word "Missi" was block-printed, large letters.

"You didn't let us sign your cast," Lance said.

"You're special," Chris said. Lance shook his head, because as usual, that made no sense.

"I'm busy," Lance said.

"You're no fun. I'm going to give Justin my M&Ms. He'll appreciate the value of hand-purchased M&Ms, instead of the kind you get on your rider with all the green ones picked out."

"Wasn't that Van Halen?"

"I have taught you well."

* * *

Chris was chatty and bright-eyed after the show, following Lance back to his room. Lance wondered, sometimes, if the others were aware of this little arrangement, or if they turned a blind eye. Once they were inside the room, he didn't really care, because Chris was tugging at the hem of his shirt, pulling him back towards the bed, pushing him down on it.

Lance put his hands up under Chris's shirt as Chris kissed him, a liquid slippery tongue dancing, devilish, into Lance's mouth, tracing his lips and sliding wet and hot down his neck, down the body exposed as Chris unbuttoned the shirt, smooth golden skin appearing beneath it.

"You're getting tan," Chris observed, dipping his tongue into Lance's navel.

"You're not." Lance pulled on the hem of Chris's shirt, yanking it over his head. Chris made a garbled noise and tugged the shirt the rest of the way off.

"Just for that, I should withhold the fellatio."

"Whatever." Lance stretched out, lazily reaching for the headboard. His jeans dipped low, and Chris worked the fly open, tugging them off.

"If we did this more often," Chris said, "I would have noticed this six-pack you're developing." His fingers pushed into the waistband of Lance's boxer-briefs, exposing the stiff erection Lance's bored tone denied.

"Would you stop talking and go down on me already?"

"The impatience of youth," Chris sighed, and sucked Lance's cock between his lips.

That was one reason, Lance thought dimly, that it was good they didn't do this very often. He didn't ever want to get used to that feeling of sudden damp heat surrounding his cock, the way Chris could excite him like nothing else. Chris sucked cock like it was candy, like it was peanut M&Ms, like he couldn't get enough of it, during these times. But only during these times; Lance had learned that early on, when he'd approached Chris the day after their first interlude, and Chris had snapped at him angrily, run him off, a complete opposite of the way he'd been the night before.

But the sex was better the next time. And the next, and the time after that.

He began to grunt, pushing up into Chris's mouth, and like it was a signal, Chris released him, smacking his lips. "You want to fuck me, Bass?" he asked.

"No, I think it's your turn," Lance said, the bed tilting beneath him -- or maybe it was just his head, he wasn't sure. Chris's warmth disappeared. He reached out and curled his fingers around the hard edges of the mattress, seeking an anchor.

"I didn't finish telling you about Missi," Chris said when he came back, putting his legs over Lance's thighs.

Lance rolled his eyes. "Do we really need to talk about your girlfriend right now?"

"I want to talk about her."

"I'm sure she'd love to know that -- _fuck_ \-- you talk about her during sex." Lance bit his lip when Chris stuck a second finger in roughly, lubed but still abrading, and even though he was hitting him right, it still wasn't quite at the point of pleasure yet. Chris's fingers twisted, rolling inside him. He groaned, his cock bobbing against his belly.

"She sold me the M&Ms. She asked me if I had a girlfriend. I said no, so she asked me if I had a boyfriend."

"What'd you, what'd you tell her?" Lance's vaunted composure was beginning to ebb. He didn't really give a fuck about Chris's conversation with Missi, but whatever made Chris happy, at this point, was fine with him, as long as Chris quit farting around and fucked him already.

"I said sometimes, and she said that's good."

"That's nice." Lance let out an aching sigh as Chris's fingers slipped out of him. He closed his eyes and raised his legs, letting Chris find the opening, hard rounded head pushing slowly into him. He loved this part, too, because they traded off on fucking so it was even less of something he was used to, more of a new sensation every time. Chris's dick was hot and heavy inside him, radiant pain spiked with sharp pleasure.

"So hot," Chris said, and then they didn't speak at all for a while, surrendering to the slide and pull of muscle. Lance closed his eyes and let the world scatter into fragments around him: Chris's hands, hard, pressing, on his hips; the slow rock and glide, dick into ass, smoother and hotter with every thrust; the roughness of the bedspread under his fingers.

He wrapped his legs around Chris's waist, locked his ankles, and Chris grunted, leaning forward and surging harder, faster, Chris's belly and the soft hairs on it grinding against his cock, giving him needed friction. It was over within moments, the vibration of Chris's stomach on him - he was fucking humming something, Lance couldn't tell what, but it was enough to make him come, lungs strumming and needy for air, Chris's weight dense on him, and he felt Chris throb into him at the same time he gasped something that sounded like "mother _fuck_ errr--"

Chris rolled off of him, panting. Lance dropped his legs, heaving breath into his lungs.

"She told me to tell you that you should treat me nice," Chris said.

"I do fucking treat you nice," Lance growled, and yanked Chris into his arms.

"I'm going to give Justin the peanut M&Ms next time."

"No, you're not."

"No, I'm not," Chris agreed, as Lance nuzzled his throat.

It didn't happen very often. But Lance had learned to cherish it when it did.


End file.
